Sweet Confessions
by DazzledxSurrender
Summary: I wanted to protect him, in a way I hadn't been able to protect myself. But he looked up at me once, locking eyes for the quickest moment and I wondered if maybe my attraction to him was something a little more than that. [AH; Rated M for lemons]
1. Intro

It was shocking how much I looked like my mother. Time had wrinkled her face and age had softened her once piercing gaze, but looking at this old photo of her made me suddenly sick to my stomach. Maybe my mother and I were two drastically different souls but I still held so much of her. It was right there in that photo, as she cuddled comfortably beneath my father's sharp face. Her eyes were wide and brown, framed with the thickest of dark lashes. Her smile dimpled in away that will always make her look childish. She looked...just as I did now. Which seemed pretty accurate, as the date of the photo put her at about 17. I had never really considered that I looked like my mom. She carried herself so differently that I had even questioned if were of the same species.

But there it was, in the worn photo between my fingers. The one thing my mother had given me...her beauty. Except I didn't wear it as well. Where my mother knew colors and clothes, beauty and makeup, I settled for literature and drawing. She was always griping at me to wear dresses, to go to dances, to date and wear just a little plum lipstick (It would be "a wonderful shade for my skin.") My mother was eccentric and a little nuts but she was really a good mom. Was I making a terrible mistake?

"You ready, Bella?" I turned to see Renee's head peering into my bedroom, her eyes exhausted and impatient.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I tucked the photo into the pocket of my jacket. If I regretted moving in with my father, maybe there was a chance for me to come back. But I just couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't belong here. That my mother, her husband and their new baby were a picture I just didn't belong in.

"Phil is taking your bags to the taxi now," She smiled a sleepy smile, shifting baby Luke to her other hip as I approached the doorway. "I really should be taking you to the airport," She frowned, suddenly as unsure of everything as I was.

"It's fine, mom," I reached out to softly pinch my brother's cheek as he slobbered on a toy. "You've got a lot going on,"

Her smile was soft. "You've always been such a bright, understanding girl," She leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Call once you land,"

I nodded, pulling my last bag up and over my shoulder. I wouldn't call her and she would not expect a call. Watching her sooth a suddenly whiny baby and turn to take him into the nursery, I had the thought that I may be finally able to sleep on a regular schedule without a baby in the house. If anything, that's something to look forward to.

I walked through the hallway and toward the front door where Phil stood, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Gone to give Luke a nap?" He asked, glancing behind me.

"Probably," I said, stopping awkwardly at the doorway. "Thanks for getting my bags,"

"Not a problem," He said, laying his large hand on my shoulder. "Enjoy your last year of school,"

Ugh. School. I rolled my eyes but forced a smile, walking out into the hot Florida sun. Everyone was going to be just fine without me. Was there anyone in this world that would see me stepping away from their life and think to themselves that I should stay? Or will I never really belong anywhere?


	2. Chapter 2

I hit my alarm with a grunt, rolling back under the covers. No, it couldn't be morning already. I peaked hesitantly from my blanket and toward the window. The sky was overcast and the window was streaked with rain but it was definitely morning.

"Ugh," I sighed, rolling to sit up. The bags I hadn't unpacked the last two nights were still pressed up against the opposing wall. It was a sure sign of my laziness, considering that I only had 8 bags (most of them full of books.) But I'd worry about that later. My concern now was focusing on mustering the energy and want to get out of bed. Today would be my first day of my senior year. I hardly had any time to mentally prepare. Or, at least I hadn't taken advantage of any time. For two days I stayed locked away in my room, reading my favorite novels and obsessing over how wonderful it was to live in quiet. Charlie was a lot like me, in that sitting by himself was not a sign of sorrow but of comfort. We hadn't spoken much, most of it being because of his work schedule as a police officer but also because my father did not fill the silence with mindless chatter. Perhaps our dinners were a little awkward by appearance, but as I watched him scarf down what must be the first homemade meal he's had in forever, I knew this was the perfect set up for both of us.

Standing up, I glanced out at the window, stretching my thin arms above my head. The rain made light sounds against the roof. I couldn't decide how I felt about the weather here. At one point in my life, when I was a lot younger, visiting my dad on holidays was hell. I was a spoiled, sun-soaked tween who spent my entire visits texting my friends the details of how wet and icky this town was. There was still a lit bit of that now, scanning the yard in its muddy, dark state. But I had changed so much, that the tiny and strange town seemed like just what I needed.

"Bells?" The light knock startled my gaze to the door.

"Yeah?" I tugged my tank top down where it had risen above my bellybutton, frightened that he would walk in and see me scarcely clothed. Except he didn't, he stayed quietly for a moment. "Sorry, I was making sure you were up,"

"Oh," I frowned, crossing my arms across my chest and moving to open the door. He stood straighter, his right hand gripping a large mug of what smelled like glorious coffee. "Yeah, I'm up," Obviously.

"Okay," He said, nodding toward the stairs. "I have someone I want you to meet when you're ready to go," I raised my brow, frightened by uncertainty.

"Oh, uhm, alright,"

Charlie ran a palm down his tired face, turning back toward the steps. "No rush, Bells,"

I closed the door, walking back toward the window, I could see my dad's police cruiser sitting in a dense curtain of fog in the driveway, but unlike the last two mornings it did not sit alone, but beside a maroon Honda. Frowning, I tied my hair back into a knotted bun. I felt the urge to hurry, uncomfortable with the knowledge that I had to be introduced to any more new faces than I surely already was.

I dressed quickly, throwing about the bags of clothes still sealed closed. My wardrobe was styled by my mother for Florida sun. I'd freeze to death before the end of the school year. Which meant I'd have to go shopping. The thought made me shiver more than the chilly weather would. I at least still had my cardigan, a dark blue and over worn piece that my mother hated. It would keep me from standing out in my bright, floral, summer clothes.

I walked down the stairs, strapping my purse across my body. I could hear their voices slowly becoming louder, as I neared the end of the steps. The girl sounded young, jabbering on about some sort of school event? Was this a girl my age? My nose scrunched at the idea of dealing with an excited sounding student this early in the morning. I was not ready for today, not ready at all. I palmed the bottle of pills in my jacket pocket. The only reassurance, if any, that I wouldn't die today.

I grabbed my shoes from where they lay by the door, balancing on one leg as I tried to zip up one of the boots. The shaky stance threw me back on both legs before tripping over nothing. I fell down quickly, knocking over the tall rack of coats. Everything came down with a deep BOOM that silence her chatter.

Shit.

"Bells?" I sat up, rubbing my knee with a wince.

"Hey," I answered awkwardly, smiling a small and closed mouth smile as he stepped into my sight. The girl came from right behind him, her eyes wide as she looked over the scene.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she asked, her eye brows raised and her voice a squeaky pitch.

"Mhm," I murmured, standing up to fix the rack. "Sorry," This was awesome. One moment to appear at least slightly normal and I shatter the opportunity by falling over air.

"Well, uhm," Charlie started, moving to help me with the jackets. "This is Angela. She goes to the highschool out here. Same year as you,"

I looked toward her again, smiling the same closed mouth smile. Ah, as I figured. Charlie had requested a travel buddy. She greeted with a far brighter grin, shifting a bag that was almost as large as she was, to her other shoulder. "I'm president of the key club so I see your dad all the time at the station. We have fundraisers and stuff for clothes and food and things. You're shoes are so cute! I wish I could pull off combat boots like that. He told me you were moving in here this year. This is so cool. I thought I'd take you since, like, you wont know anyone at school and I know like... everyone,"

I slowly moved my gaze to my dad who looked suddenly apologetic. So she was always like this...awesome. "Right, well. Cool, thanks,"

She smiled, shrugging her small shoulders. "Totally. Helping people is totally my thing,"

My dad coughed, probably to cover a laugh. He better feel all sorts of sorry for this. If there were a single sort of person I wouldn't mind hanging around (and there wasn't) Angela was not the type. "I have to head to the station," He said, grabbing one of the coats. "I'm running late, but I wanted to be sure you got to school okay,"

I watched him with wide eyes, feeling like showing up in a cop car would be better than dealing with her energy. "We can stop and get coffee," She offered, as Charlie smiled, touching my shoulder in a reassuring gesture as he opened the front door and disappeared behind a cool fog. I'd forgive him for this.

Coffee. Yes. "I'd love that," I said, readjusting my bag. I didn't come here for friends, but a ride and some coffee would be nice. As we walked out toward her car, waving at the cruiser as it backed away, she chattered on about classes and clubs. It was like I wasnt even there. Angela wasnt looking for a friend either, she was looking for a project. And boy did I need some work...

* * *

"You're right here!" She said, gesturing into the open doorway. "My class is across the way, so when it's out I'll walk you to lunch," She smiled that bright, toothy smile. She had been my little tour guide the entire day, even sharing my second class with me. She was correct in telling me she knew everybody. Not that it was a great astonishment in this little school. With each turn she was introducing me to someone new and each person seemed too happy with my presence. "You're swans daughter!" They'd all day, suddenly pinning me as a friend. I was not a friend. I kept pleading with her not to, that she didn't need to do this. It was my polite way of telling her I didn't want her to. This was only going to make it harder to keep blended in.

"Thanks," I murmured, stepping away from her and into the classroom. I had been excited about this one. Literature was my favorite subject. It was going to be such a great way to get my mind off of things.

Looking through the room I spotted the one table not occupied, and took the seat. It was in the far back,a two seat table...but as people filed in and sat, I began to feel comfortable with the thought that I just might be seated alone. I wasn't good at group work and I didn't want to answer any more question about Phoenix or my dad.

The class began, copies of Catch 22 being passed around the room. I'd read this the year before at my old school, which disappointed me but really only meant that I could space out and relax with this one. Maybe even read a personal book instead. I'm pretty sure I even had a paper I wrote on the novel at home. While pondering the possibility, the class door opened, interrupting the professor mid sentence. The boy walked in, running a hand through his messy bronze colored hair. He was...incredibly good looking, with a sharp jaw line, full lips and dark eyes. But what captivated me most was the way people responded to his entrance. I watched everyone's backs straighten and the whisper chatter completely halt. Even the teacher, who had been disrupted, willingly paused his lecture to smile at the boy.

He had a backpack hanging on one shoulder, but he pulled it off to toss it by the only open seat...the one beside me. I scooted over, though why I'm not sure. Something about him suggested he needed more space. His leather jacket scrunched as he sat beside me, throwing his long legs out beneath the table. I noticed people glancing back, some of their wide eyes meeting my own. It was as if I was sitting next to a wild wolf or something. He said no word to me, did not even glance, but I knew I was in his way.

If there had been any other seat available, I would have leapt up. Rather, I flipped to a new notebook page, deciding to actually focus on the lesson. I couldn't space out with Mr. Leather-jacket next to me.

"Excuse me," His voice was like velvet, smooth and deep. My eyes went straight to his mouth first, the soft curve of his lips drawing my attention. But they quickly met his eyes which I realized were a deep green. Wait, why was I noticing that? "Do you have a pen?"

I nodded slowly, watching his left brow raise slightly. "Can I use one?" He clarifies and I realize I hadn't moved.

"Oh, yeah," I blushed, turning away to rummage through my bag. I held the pen out, his long fingers taking it from me. He was left handed.

"Thanks," He said, a quick half smile forming and disappearing before I could appreciate it. He smelled like a cologne I could not recognize but one that was making my stomach flutter. I didn't like this, the attention to detail I was paying toward this stranger. But at least wasn't as curious about me as everyone else. He ignored me the rest of class, only seeming to use my pen to doodle at the ends of his paper. I thought at first he was paying as little attention as I was, but from the corner of my eyes I could see his lips move softly to answer each question asked. He did not offer his words to the class but kept them to himself. He was smart and as informed on literature as I seemed to be. If there were to be a partner, he seemed the right one. Scratch the social awkwardness of course.

When the bell sounded, a shrieking awful sound, I stood from my chair to collect my notebooks. A boy I didn't recognized stepped up to our table, smiling widely at me.

"You're Isabella right?"

"Bella," I said, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. He turned away toward where a group of people stood staring. "Yeah, it's Swan's daughter!" He said, walking toward them as I sighed. This town was too small. I turned to leave, almost running into where my desk partner stood, leaning back against the table. He watched me curiously for a fleeting moment before holding out my pen.

"Thank you," He murmured, looking down at the notebooks I had clutched against my chest.

"Yeah," I said, that embarrassing blush creeping along my cheeks. He turned, taking long strides to the door. I watched him till he disappeared then started to shake my head. No. No crushes. When I left the room Angela met me, but she had a giggling sidekick with her. The boy was passing them, and parting the crowd as he made his way down the hall.

"This is Jessica!" Angela said, touching her friends shoulder. I looked back and smiled, nodding toward his disappearing form.

"Who's that?"

The girls looked at each other and smiled a sad, knowing smile. "That's Edward Cullen,"

"Come on," Jessica said, hooking her elbow with mine. "Theres a long story with that boy,"


	3. Chapter 3

It became apparent to me, as the three of us walked toward the cafeteria, that Jessica was not Angela's sidekick but rather the other way around. Angela's bright face followed Jessica's lead with a desperate excitement. I had seen girls like this in my last school, but watching Jessica's fake smile, polished nails and ridiculous Abercrombie labels gave me a flash back that made me shudder. No, I can't focus on that. I shook away the memory before it took over. I couldn't deal with any more depression.

"Bella?" I looked toward Jessica's slender, arced brow. "Hello? Space out much?"

"Oh," I flushed, someone in the crowd pushed me against her as they passed. "What did you say?"

"I _said _is Edward in Lit with you?"

I nodded, scanning the cafeteria as we entered. It was so much smaller than the one in Phoenix. There was a stage on one side of the room,where students were sitting against the edge, munching on sandwiches and filling the room with laughter. I wondered if this could be enough tables for the entire student body.

"We always sit here," Jessica said, letting go of my elbow to toss her purse on top of a table in the far left corner of the room. There were a handful of girls already there, grinning up at her with the same groupie-like fashion that Angela had. "Ladies, this is Bella," She said, gesturing at me as I sat across from her. They said hello in a freaky sort of unison.

"You're Charlie's daughter, yeah?" A red-head asked, sipping a carton of orange juice.

"Yeah," I frowned. "That's me,"

"Bella was just asking us about Edward," Jessica smirked, turning her nose up at one of the girl's lunch. "You can't cheer when you take in that many carbs Cassie, my god,"

The girl flushed, pushing away her pasta. I didn't like these girls. Putting my books on my lap I scanned the room. A way out. A distraction. Something.

"Was he like, super mean to you?" Angela asked, texting away on her phone.

"No," I said, shrugging a left shoulder. "He didn't talk to me at all. We just sit together so..."

"Well Edward's sort of...challenged," Jessica said, crinkling her nose. "He use to be, like, the most popular boy in school. He played guitar for a band, was the lacrosse captain," She waved her hand, "Yadda yadda. He was the shit,"

"He was so happy all the time," Angela said, finally looking up from her phone. "I remember having chemistry with him and it was such a blast. Always smiling, friends with everyone,"

"Yeah, well all that changed last year," Jessica took a drink from a water bottle she had pulled from her purse, leaning in toward me. "He was in a totally bad accident that like...killed his friend,"

I rose my eyebrows, my mouth parting slightly.

"Tom Harden," The red-head frowned. "So sad,"

I felt suddenly guilty, I shouldn't be listening to someone tell me something so personal.

"And he just totally..." Jessica trailed off before snapping her fingers, "Vanished. Didn't come to school for like 5 months,"

"I heard he got into cocaine or something," a blonde said, chewing on her food. "Had to got to rehab,"

I looked down at my hands, clasped neatly on top of my books. I pictured the soft curve of his smile, that one that didn't touch his eyes and disappeared so quickly. Poor, Edward. These people had no right.

"And when he came back," Jessica said, meeting my gaze. "He was totally different. Sulked around, didn't talk to _anybody._ He quit lacrosse, his band. He had a chance for a scholarship and lost it,"

"Jesus," I mumbled, cupping the back of my neck with my hand.

"He started getting into fights," the red-head turned to Angela with wide eyes. "Remember during the summer at the beach?" She turned toward me as Angela nodded. "No one expected him to come and he showed up. Got crazy drunk and beat the crap out of a guy that use to be on his lacrosse team,"

"Point is," Jessica interrupted, clapping her hands together. "Edward is a total babe but is completely unstable. Don't fall for his looks because he's totally-" She cut off to twirl a finger around the side of her head. "Bonkers,"

I pressed my lips together, remembering the way our english teacher had smiled at him. Apparently he thought the way I had, that Edward was grieving in his own way. What these girls didn't know was that it could be worse, that he really didn't sound all that bad. A little cliché maybe, but he wasn't some kind of monster.

"Hey, babe," A blond boy threw himself in the seat beside Jessica, leaning in to kiss her cheek. He looked like the perfect all-american, football playing sort of boy and just the sort of boy I'd imagine Jessica to be with. She smiled the most genuine one she had yet, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Who's this?" He asked, nodding toward me with a smirk that made me look away.

"Oh, this is the new girl," Jessica said, playing with his hair. "Bella,"

"Hey, Bella," He said, leaning toward me, "I'm Mike,"

I nodded, raising my hand in an awkward wave. Once he broke the conversation of Edward, the mood at the entire table took on a lot friendlier energy. I'm not sure how this happened, how I planned to eat alone and was now surrounded by the largest group in this place. Each person I met seemed so eager to have the new kid aboard. There must not be a lot of excitement in this place. If I could get over the initial discomfort of all eyes being on me then maybe this wouldn't be such a bad set up. Plus, who was I to deny friendship from anyone?

Mike was in my next class... gym. Which, might I add, was a klutz most feared subject. He had made it so clear he was with Jessica but laid on the flirt pretty heavily. He was harmless enough, taking over my spot behind the volleyball net so I wouldn't get hit in the face. Or hit some else's. He was being friendly to me, and I was an odd mixture of happy and frightened out of my wits.

At my last school, I had been the Edward, the outcast. But I didn't leave school alone and sad. I walked outside at the end of the day and met the smiling faces of the people I met at lunch, and some I hadn't, excitedly asking me about my day. This was the sort of thing my therapist talked about. Getting out there, trusting people. I got into Angela's car not because I felt warm and fuzzy with friendship but because I saw Edward then, walking with his hands deep in his pockets away from the school. No one spoke to him, but watched him pass. I didn't want to live that way, suddenly seeing what I looked like from the outside. Lonely, depressed and vulnerable. I wanted to let go of what happened and be...normal. So I let her take me home, watching from behind the passenger window as he disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

The next week went as the first. Angela continued to pick me up from the house to take me to school. I hadn't asked or expected her to, but there she was each morning, honking once from my driveway. It was bests anyhow, considering my only other option was Charlie. I really didn't want to be any more of a burden to him than I already was. Besides, Charlie seemed to love my morning pick-ups, smiling at me one morning from over a bowl of Cheerios.

"You and that Angela girl are getting close,"

There was a sort of pride in the way he said it, probably feeling all sorts of "perfect-dad-award" over the fact that he had thought to introduce us. Probably even told my mom about all the progress I was making with him. I knew my mother must have detailed all of my issues with him prior to moving me in. He knew what he was getting into, becoming a full time father to me. I hadn't had a panic attack since the summer before I moved, but I continued to pop those little pills each morning or I knew I would. Charlie couldn't read me well (actually, no one could) and I happily let him believe I was as happy as he wished me to be.

To him, I'm hanging around people and doing well in my classes...the things my mother stressed to him I needed to be. I didn't want Charlie feeling guilt in my failure. I can remember the day my mother stopped trying, using the birth of my brother as an excuse to forget all my problems. I had stumbled in from school early one day, having cut my last class. My face was moist with tears and my clothes torn. I had made a quick run to my bedroom, hoping I wouldn't get caught cutting school. But I saw my mom then, bouncing her baby boy happily in her arms just inside of his open nursery. She made the quickest eye contact with me, smiled and turned her attention back to him. Not even a raised brow at the cuts along my neck. I hadn't been sure if she hadn't really seen or just decided not to notice but I understood either way. It must have been exhausting to deal with me. And now she didn't have to, it was Charlie's problem now.

After that first day here, I really have been trying, adding to conversation during lunch, laughing at their jokes and walking with them to classes. My mother had her happy little family to distract her from me, but Charlie had nothing. That, was enough reason for me to push through. I couldn't be normal...not yet. Not with Angela, Jessica or Mike. No one would understand what I was going through. Maybe they'd try to understand as first, but eventually they'd be frustrated by my problems and driven away by my insanity. Or, maybe I'd drive myself away. I was good at that, talking myself into solitary. I would make a terrible friend, but faking it was working out just fine. What's that they say? Fake it till you make it?

The only break in routine was Edward. We were in school for 10 days and he already missed three. I walked each day into that room awaiting the sight of him to figure the next hour. Was I going to be focused or completely unproductive? It was a strange feeling, knowing such personal things about a person who probably didn't even know my name. I felt this strange pull to him. Maybe it was the sad twist if his features or the way everyone ignored him but I felt oddly protective of him. He hadn't paid attention to me since that first day with the pen. Not a word, not a glance, not a nod of acknowledgment. Yet he still demanded all of my attention, the way he ran his fingers through that hair or fingered the pages of his notebook. I couldn't focus. I was equal parts relieved and deflated when I saw he wasn't in class that Friday. It was the perfect class to be focused, because we were assigned our first paper. I took the task on with a nerdy excitement. I was handicapped by my lack of computer (and believe it or not, Forks High didn't have any computers available. Apparently students had broken in over the summer and stole all the laptops from the computer room), but I'd happily spend my weekend in the library typing it up there. All I needed, was a ride.

"Ben asked me out," Angela said, first thing when she met me out of class.

"Uhm, who?" I fell into step beside her.

"Ben!" She sighed, "_Remember?_ He's on the football team, eats at lunch with us? Brown hair, sparkly eyes?" She looked away dreamily and I rolled my eyes.

"Right, Sparkly eyes,"

"I mean, homecoming is like, a month away, but he _asked _me. That's a long term investment!"

"Yeah," I said, smiling at her as we stopped by her locker.

"You're going to the dance, right?" She asked, placing her books in the high shelf. Now, she didn't know what she was asking. She would have no idea what homecoming meant to me. But I cringed and backed away in fear of her, regardless.

"Can't. I'll be out of town," I lied through my teeth and the taste was bitter on my tongue.

"Bummer!" She turned back toward me, a frown on her perfectly made up face.

"Yeah," I looked down at my bracelet, twisting it around my wrist casually. "I actually needed to ask you if you could give me a ride after school. To the library?"

"The library?" Her nose scrunched, as we made our way to the cafeteria.

"Yeah I have a paper to write,"

"Yeah I can take you," She shrugged, stepping into the lunch line. This would be the first time I've seen her actually eat during lunch. "It's only like, 20 minutes away.

Jessica ended up coming with us, deciding they would shop while I worked. They did quite a bit of trying to convince me to join, but it was going to take more than a little bit of peer pressure to get me to shop. If my eccentric, driven mother couldn't do it in 10 years, they wouldn't budge me after 10 days.

The ride into town had been...only slightly bearable. They chatted excitedly about where they were going to shop over the loud stereo. Same obnoxious pop music she played on our way to school. Everything about these girls was a stereotype. Though, I suppose I was my own in a way.

"Oh, look," Jessica said, glancing away from her phone. "There's actually cars in the parking lot. I figured, like, _no one_ came here,"

I pressed my lips together, thinking that in Jessica's circle, that was probably true and explained a lot.

"Text me when you're done!" Angela yelled, as I closed the car door. If it hadn't had been for my mother insisting she have a way to contact me, I wouldn't even have a phone. I mean, it's not like I texted or wanted to talk to anyone. Until Angela requested I put her number in on the second day of school, I had forgotten I even had one.

I walked toward the door, stepping in with my notebooks pressed against my chest. The library was small, as I'd become accustomed to expecting. The fog had thinned, leaking small bits of sunlight through the spaces. The light created the most wonderful glow within the library. Large windows made up most of the walls, bathing the room in natural light. There were book cases throughout the floor, and standing against the wall in space between each window. There were tables to one side of the room, 4 or 5 of them, and a computer center at the other. It would do just fine.

I made my way to a table, laying my bag and notebooks down on top. I'd start with the books, first. Surely they'll even have more of a selection than the school library…which I'm pretty sure hadn't updated their stock in years. Except, even with only a slightly larger array of choices, I didn't want to waste any time wandering through the bookcases in search of a novel. I'm sure those girls could shop till they dropped, but I still felt terrible for having anyone wait on me. I left my things at the table, walking up to the empty information desk, where a tiny silver bell sat on the countertop. Reluctantly, I rang it and waited.

"Be right there," I heard the male's voice behind me, casual and soft.

"No rush," I said, gently brushing the pages of an encyclopedia that they had stacked beside the bell. I saw a person step into my line of vision, moving the swinging gate door and stepping behind the counter.

No. No way. I watched as Edward placed a stack of books by the computer and walk up to where I was standing.

"How can I help you?" How had I not recognized that odd and sensual, velvet sound of his voice? His bronze hair was in the same disarray it always was, but for the first time I was seeing him without his leather jacket. He was in a casual black sweater, the sleeves rolled up just under his elbow. I could make out the end of a tattoo on his forearm and I itched to pull the fabric back. His cough brought my gaze back up and I blushed all sorts of red.

"Sorry, uhm," I looked him over once. "You're the librarian?"

"No," he answered, shaking his head softly, "She's on a quick break. Did you want to wait?"

"No that's okay," I blushed at the embarrassing thought they he may not even recognize me. I threw a thumb behind me. "Need help finding a book," He nodded, furrowing his brow slightly.

"What were you looking for?"

"Well," I cleared my throat, "I just need some good history on John F. Kennedy,"

"Oh?" He hadn't expected that, nodding behind me. "I'll show you," I waited, following behind him when he had come back from the counter. His dark jeans were worn and sat wonderfully against him. I felt like the worst sort of person, checking him out this way in a room of old people reading quietly.

"Is this for History?" I jumped at his question, coming to a stop at a bookcase against a wall.

"No, Literature actually. You'd know that if you showed up to class," He turned to me, eyebrows raised and I mentally smacked my head. Let's not be snarky to the boy, now, Bella.

"I suppose so," He said, smirking in a crooked way that brightened his face. "We're still on Catch 22?" I nodded, clasping my hands in front of me. Mouth shut and hands to myself. He grimaced. "It's a terrible book,"

Was he…small talking with me? "Is that why you skip?"

He laughed, a quick, quiet sort and I thrilled at the sound. "No. _That _would be because it's a terrible _class,_"

"You don't like literature?"

He gestured around the room. "I work at a library. I love literature. I just don't like… that place,"

I brooded, tucking my hair behind my ear. There were so many reasons I'd imagine he didn't like to go to school. There, of course was the people, gossipy and phony. Then, there's probably the memories…I knew how that was. Leaving my school was one of the greatest reasons I had for coming to Forks. Even if all those people left, I'd still have the halls of that place haunting me with those images too clear to just be memories. My mind was a like a fucking DVD. Anything I didn't want to remember would replay with such intense clarity that any doctor would have choose to medicate me.

"Well," He turned toward the shelf, pulling two rather large novels from it. "These two are probably your best bet," He handed them over. "Though I can't imagine a thesis for Catch 22 that would justify this much information on Kennedy,"

"Yeah, well" I said, holding the books close to me. "Then I won't have to worry about you copying my topic,"

He smirked, more alive and animated than I'd seen him before. "I don't think you'd have to worry about that,"

"Because you never come to school?"

He snorted in good humor, but then there was a sudden shift in his features, his lips pressing together in a tight line, concentrating on a thought I wanted so badly to read . "So how about you?"

"Hmm?" I asked, watching the change of mood with confusion.

"How do you like Forks high?" It was a question so many people had already asked me, but there was something different about the way he did. Something genuine and sad. That was a feeling that followed everything Edward said.

"Oh," I bit my lower lip, actually considering the answer. I couldn't bring myself to lie to him. "It's…Well it's…" I made a face, shrugging my shoulders. "It's too soon to tell, really,"

He exhaled through his nose, quick and short. But whatever he was going to say, he didn't, instead reached out to touch the cover of the book still in my hands. "Start with this one. It's less of a biography and more of a dissection of how his presidency affected American history,"

"Okay," I said, watching his hand pull away. "Well, thank you,"

He walked away then, quietly adding over his shoulder to let him know if I needed any help. My jelly-like legs lead me back to my table, where I sat in perfect sight of him. Yes, I stalked him from over a book on John F. Kennedy. Watching the way he moved so gracefully behind the counter, smiling softly at the people that came up to him, moving his hand through that hair. The way he leaned on his hand as he flipped through the pages of something I couldn't see. I was almost certain it was sympathy that drew me to him. His expressions were too sad for such a beautiful face. I didn't know him! That was the most peculiar part to all of this. As a person who avoided peers at all cost, it was so strange that I wanted to be beside him. I wanted to protect him, in a way I hadn't been able to protect myself. But he looked up at me once, locking eyes for the quickest moment and I wondered if maybe my attraction to him was something a little more than that. For the first time since…well, since _then_, I was finding myself crushing hard. And it just had to be on Mr. unattainable Edward Cullen.


End file.
